


we walk alone, to find our souls (together we roam)

by Shadokin



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Fix-It, Gen, Multi, Polyamory, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25833091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadokin/pseuds/Shadokin
Summary: A book from the future brought back by a woman who wants to save the soul of humanity. Lies shadow her return, and Wells and Raven learn to pick up the pieces of a doomed tomorrow.[s5 meets s1]
Relationships: Wells Jaha & Raven Reyes
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title was inspired from a line of the song flesh and bone by black math.

“Wells!”

Before he can say anything, a body comes and crashes into his. He instinctively wraps his arms around her back to comfort her and balance himself. He doesn’t know _why_ Clarke’s hugging him like she isn’t mad at him anymore, but at that moment he isn’t about to ask.

He never imagined he would feel her warm embrace again. He feels Clarke grip him in open affection, breathing him in as though to check he’s real. She spends minutes pressed into him, and Wells moves his chin to relax on her shoulder, blowing out a slow breath.

When she finally moves back several questions float into his mind.

“What happened to your hair?” He asks, before processing the rest of her. Her hair’s short, cut to end just below her face, a patch of dark orange stains the ends of one side. Her clothes are different too, nothing like the hand-me-down pieces from the Ark they had all come down in. Her outfit was worn but definitely newer, crafted for her body and blending into the green forest around them.

It hardly registers but she’s older too. Though Wells last saw her no longer than an hour ago, this Clarke that stands before him is aged years faster. She stands strong and tall, a few lines in her face from stress he never saw before.

Clarke smiles at his question, lips twitching as she looks him over. For years growing up, and even now, Wells took pride in being able to read his best friend. But this Clarke was different, and her face held stories that shaped her into a stranger.

“There’s so much to say, Wells. I can’t even pick a place to start,” she says, sounding like relief and wonder as she sighs, turning to dig in the bag resting over her hip, pulling out a book he had never seen before.

“Here. _This_ is a good place to start. There’s still a lot more I need to tell you, and I will. But maybe we can find somewhere else to go first? It’d be bad if someone caught me out here right now.”

Wells’ mind spins as he takes the offered book. The thought appears despite his refusal to accept it; that this different Clarke means she couldn’t be seen by the Clarke he knew, _his_ Clarke.

“Y-yeah, sure,” he says. Whatever’s happening, whoever this Clarke is he has to find out. Clarke tilts her head before reaching and taking his hand.

“I know where to go. Follow me.”

And so he did.

XxX

Clarke leads to a bunker Wells didn’t know existed. There’re pictures of people probably long dead scattered about, and color pencils sitting in cups by a table. Once he’s sitting down on the mattress Clarke starts, not bothering to ease him into it.

She’s from the future, she tells him. About seven years, give or take. Given her appearance it makes sense, except for the _how_ or _why_. Clarke doesn’t explain that, doesn’t even try to. She goes on about where she’s from and the state of the world. One valley left on the planet that’s livable. A war between the last groups of humans fighting and killing each other.

“Even if we win what’s left of the valley, the losses are huge,” Clarke tells him, hands together in front of her as she paces slowly about the bunker. Wells stares down the book she had gifted him, bound together with string to keep it from falling apart. He undoes the knots and flips it open.

 _‘Please, don’t forget about us.’_ Is the first line written. Names are scribbled underneath. Raven Reyes. Bellamy Blake. Echo kom Spacekru. Emori kom Spacekru. John Murphy. Monty Green. Harper McIntyre. Ezekiel Shaw. Clarke Griffin. Madi Griffin.

“Who’s Madi?” He asks, and sees a kind of smile on Clarke he never saw before. It reminds him of his parents, and an understanding stirs in his gut. Clarke has a light in her eyes as she meets his gaze.

“She’s my family,” _My world_ goes without saying. _My child_ is what Wells hears underneath. Clarke lets the silence drape over them before walking over and sitting next to Wells.

“My future is doomed, Wells. My family’s in danger and this is the only thing we can think of to fix it.”

Clarke looks to the book and Wells raises it up to her. She reaches over and flips carefully through the pages.

“We tried to put down everything we could that we’d thought could help. After talking it through, we realized someone would need to come back to actually give it to you.

Wells blinks and the words sink in.

“You’re not staying?”

Clarke looks like she wants to lean in, her eyes watery as she strains her mouth into another smile.

“Time travel’s funny. It’s got a lot of rules to it,” Clarke looks away, her smile slipping. “We need to change things, but having another Clarke around… the world doesn’t need two of us.”

She shakes her head like there’s some inside joke there, but Wells runs through the idea in his head, looking back down at the book.

It won’t work.

“No one will believe me,” he says, keeping the panic locked inside him. He's the kid above the rest, as though he came to Earth with the delinquents for vacation instead of a crime.

Clarke puts a hand on her shoulder and redirects him back to her.

“Right now, that’s not the most important thing. I need to make sure you stay alive before convincing anyone the entire planet needs saving.”

_I need to make sure you stay alive._

There’s no other way to read that. Wells forces himself to take a breath. He’s not dead yet. And his best friend from the future came back to keep it that way.

“How?” He asks, unsure of how he sounds and if it matters. Clarke keeps her hand on her shoulder, and Wells wonders when she last heard his voice. When she last looked him in the eyes and saw him looking back.

“A child suffering from nightmares. Someone… gets in her head that she needs to fight back against the one who sentenced her parents to death.”

The shadow of his father grows over him. Wells has half a mind to ask Clarke if he makes it, but her future holds only a handful of the population left. He doesn’t like the thought of his father alive in that hopeless world, but he doesn’t like the opposing thought any better.

“So she kills me?”

Clarke nods.

“You need to talk to Bellamy. Let him know about Charlotte. Tell him before she tries anything.”

Wells looks at the first page of the book: Bellamy’s name is in neat letters, between the names Raven and Echo. Most of the names are unfamiliar to him.

“And he’ll listen to me? I don’t about how the one in the future’s like, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t care if I die.”

He thinks about Bellamy’s threat on Jasper’s life. Throwing the knife before Wells when Murphy wanted to fight.

Clarke’s lips form a flat line, and she slips away from Wells and back to her feet.

“Bellamy will know what to do with her. He,” Clarke pauses, “he’ll listen.”

Wells nods because he trusts her, and then she pats the top of her legs as though brushing dust from the material.

“I can’t go back to camp with you,” Clarke says, and he spots her grabbing a larger bag than her previous one from the shadows. Was it hers, or did she just know it was there? “But I’ll be around. I need to know you’re safe before I can go back.”

Wells swallows, but he doesn’t know what to say. He stands up to meet her, and they embrace. Despite talking about a second apocalypse and preventing his own murder, Clarke’s arms are relaxed around him. They stay together only briefly, and Wells pulls away first.

“May we meet again,” he says, and deep down at least, he can admit the fear he’s feeling pulsing through his body. Clarke nods, repeats it back to him.

Then she’s gone.

XxX

Bellamy’s face morphs into complete devastation. He looks like a stranger to Wells, and he sits down in his tent, and Wells checks out the door to make sure no one’s drawing too close.

“Can I see that?” Bellamy asks, holding out his arm for the book. Wells resists his reluctance and hands it over. Bellamy opens to the first page and stares at the names before his hand reaches down it.

“She’s not here…”

He flips to the next page, taking in the crammed words forced onto a single sheet of paper. Wells doesn’t know what it says yet, but Bellamy starts to skip, flipping farther and farther to the end.

“Blodreina,” he mutters, his voice soft and low, finally stopping on what looks like a new chapter. He reads in silence, and Wells waits until he’s gone through three more pages before he dumps the book beside him and looks to Wells.

There are tears in his eyes. He sniffs, pulling his back straight but not attempting to wipe the agony from his face.

“I’ll go find Charlotte,” Bellamy pats Wells on the shoulder and passes him without another word. Wells glances back at the book. He’s curious about the word _blodreina_ but… did he want to find out?

XxX

Present Clarke, with her long hair and old Ark clothes, is handed the book next. She rereads each page several times before going to the next, and she only makes it halfway through before she has her hands on her head and leaning down with her face to the floor.

“How much have you gotten through?” Clarke asks after Wells comes to her side, placing a hand at her back. He admits that he still hasn’t finished it – finally stopping after the Fall of Mount Weather chapter. It makes him sick to think about, and guilty that he’s not sure he can push through.

“It feels like too much,” Wells says. It’s been two days since he brought the book back to camp. Charlotte seems to be giving him a wide berth; yesterday he saw Bellamy talking with her by the fire, and when Wells looked their way he saw that she was watching him.

The book talked about his own death in passing. The banishment of Murphy, the suicide of Charlotte. The way it brought Clarke and Bellamy together as a leading unit for the rest of the delinquents.

“It’s seven years of information to process,” Clarke says. Gently, she leans up, and Wells brings his hand back to his side, “I don’t know if we can fix it all.”

“We don’t have to,” Wells says, “I’m not sure we can but… we can focus on what’s happening next. Less than ten days Raven’s going to come down in the dropship. We can make sure Bellamy doesn’t get there first and destroy the radio.”

“He’s seen the book?” Clarke asks, though she already knows the answer. Her question isn’t for Bellamy, but Wells. They knew that Bellamy had come down for his sister, but now they know what he did to get here.

“My dad’s okay,” Wells says, and it’s a strange comfort to know that it’s true, that the book could tell him as long as he made it the next month, he would see his father again.

“Bellamy could’ve killed him,” Clarke says, and there’s lingering anger in her voice. Amidst processing the future events from the book, it also revealed the truth Wells tried to keep hidden. He had taken the fall for Clarke’s mother, the real person responsible for her father’s death. For eleven months she had been angry at him, and now she didn’t know where to put it.

“He came down for Octavia. So she wouldn’t be alone,” Wells hesitates before realizing he doesn’t have to anymore, and nudges forward, carefully bumping shoulders with Clarke, “Like I came down for you.”

He sees her smile, and Clarke meets his eyes. It still feels like they’re all newborns, tripping over roots and soft earth. He thought of the other Clarke, of the way she carried herself. After seven years, she knew how to move in this world. Following that train of thought, his Clarke would figure it eventually. And with luck on his side, so would he.

“Thank you, Wells,” Clarke says, and Wells wraps and arm around her shoulders. She has apologized enough for his taste, and he's glad she has finally taken his forgiveness to heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a oneshot started after s5 that took a life of its own, and is no longer a oneshot. also not all of s5 will be canon, and shaw's first name is changed in this on purpose. please lemme know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

Not everyone in camp knew about the book. Murphy didn’t. Jasper didn’t. Bellamy was stern in the decision to keep the book away from Octavia, and Clarke felt the same regarding Finn.

“We don’t know Monty that well,” Wells says, tapping his thumb in thought, “He could turn around and tell Jasper.”

“He’s in the book,” Bellamy presses back, “His name’s on the front page.”

“So is Murphy,” Clarke reminds them, “But no one here is suggesting we tell him.”

There’s a beat a silence in the air before Wells presses on, “Raven’s still on the Ark, and we don’t know who the other people from the book are yet.”

“Not true,” Bellamy folds the book back and points to one of the names, “There’s Harper.”

The name doesn’t sound familiar to Wells, and Clarke shares with him a look of confusion. Bellamy rolls his eyes like he doesn’t want to bother with explaining. Harper’s one of his people apparently, one of the delinquents he was getting to know to follow his lead.

“Do you trust her?” Wells asks. He can’t pretend the feeling in his stomach warning him against listening to Bellamy isn’t there, but he resists it. Bellamy’s eyes flicker about as he thinks.

“I don’t know her well enough yet. Maybe,” he purses his lips, “Maybe not right now.”

“That settles it for now then. We keep this between us. Once Raven touches down we can revisit this,” Clarke says, standing up. Her boots tap hard on the dropship floor, like a judge’s gavel and they all avoid looking to one another.

Bellamy flips through a few pages of the book without much thought, and Wells clears his throat.

“There’s something else we need to figure out,” he says, and Clarke and Bellamy wait with curious glances his way.

“What do we do about Lincoln?”

Clarke sighs and loosens her shoulders.

“We got to make first contact. Hopefully we can avoid…” she stops, the word _torture_ hard to push out. Wells tries to imagine Clarke standing before a stranger, tied up and bloody and making the decision to let it continue. It feels unreal, but then he thinks of the other Clarke that stood before him and told him of the future. That version looked like she had been through the ringer, and the steely look on her face told him all that she was capable of.

“But we know he won’t speak to us. He might know our language, but I doubt he’ll just start talking because we say it’s okay,” Wells says.

“You’re right,” Clarke says, frustration lacing her tone. Wells wants to bite back his words, knowing he’s no longer in her bad graces but still feeling like her anger is directed his way.

“What?” Bellamy asks, catching something Wells doesn’t. Clarke looks to him and shakes her head.

“Lincoln is drawn to Octavia,” she says, slowly, knowing she’s threading a line, “If we let that develop—”

Bellamy snorts, quick to tense at her suggestion.

“Develop? You mean let it go until what? Until he kidnaps her?” He lifts the book in emphasis. His eyes are wide and menacing, but Clarke raises her chin his way. 

“The breakthrough in the book is his connection to Octavia. Without it how do you expect to get to him?”

“How about we just try talking to him peacefully?”

Wells feels dizzy from the change in position. He’s not used to this Bellamy. He takes a stand and steps forward to draw their attention back to him.

“This book has the basis for their language. We should start there. If we can talk in his native tongue, he should be more open to hearing us out.”

Bellamy seems to soften at that, but it’s only slight.

“What about Clarke?” he asks, “The one from the future. She knows the language already, right? Let’s ask her for help.”

Wells feels defensive, if only because that Clarke isn’t here to defend herself.

“She said she can’t interfere with the past. There are rules that prevent—”

“Screw the rules. She’s already interfered just by coming back,” Bellamy says and nods like it’s decided, “Where is she hiding?”

Wells looks over to Clarke for backup, but for once he sees no argument in her stance. She gives him a look that’s pleading, and Wells wishes he could read her mind. She feels as far away as ever.

“Fine. I’ll ask her.” His words are sharper than he means, but Bellamy nods back at him. Clarke licks her lips, glancing between them.

“I’m coming with you.”

XxX

_“The world doesn’t need two of us.”_

Wells tries to convince himself that he isn’t betraying the other Clarke by leading the present Clarke to her. But when he gets there future Clarke just looks up from where she’s eating some kind of root, tired eyes reaching them and, upon seeing her younger self, offers a distant smile.

“I don’t know what I expected,” Clarke said, getting up and licking her lips, a habit Wells notes that continues several years down the line. He wants to apologize, but Clarke reads him fast and holds up a hand.

“It’s fine,” her eyes drift towards the younger Clarke, his best friend, the one he had come down with, “We broke a few rules to get here. What’s a few more?”

His Clarke has her feet stuck to the ground, her face processing the person before her. But too quickly she finds her voice.

“We?”

The older Clarke frowns, but the glint in her eyes stays. She opens her mouth only to pause before checking over her shoulder. Her hands slide down to her pants’ pockets, and Wells wonders if she has small knives in there, or something worse.

“Why are you here?” She turns the question back to them. Wells looks to the Clarke beside him, finds that she’s giving him her own look in return. He hides his surprise and nods her forward.

Future Clarke listens to her. Wells can’t help but feel a sense of fascination as he watches them together. Clarke doesn’t grow any taller it looks. Her face is fuller, healthier than the Clarke he knew. Older Clarke keeps her arms crossed while younger Clarke holds them stiff at her sides. Both are tense, but the Clarke he doesn’t know seems better suited for it. Like she knows how to keep alert yet take on an air of ease.

He wonders what she’s thinking when younger Clarke mentions Lincoln. The book doesn’t dive in depth into relationships. Were they friends? Did Lincoln hate her for the torture? Did she ever apologize for what she put him through?

“It’s not a good idea,” she says, after younger Clarke finishes her case. Wells doesn’t feel surprised but there’s still an urgent bubbling in his stomach as they lose the hope of her aid.

“Please,” his Clarke presses, forceful and unrelenting, “We need your help.”

“That’s why I gave you the book. All of us put together as much information as we could. It’s the best we could do.”

“But you’re _here_ ,” Clarke says, “You could’ve left by now, but you haven’t. How are you going to know what we did will change the future if you don’t go back to it?”

Wells feels a headache coming on. He didn’t know how time travel worked, how it _really_ worked. The older Clarke barely alluded to the mechanics of it all, and he doubted she could explain even if she wanted to.

The older Clarke hesitates then, and it only takes a moment before Wells works it out.

“Is Madi with you?” he asks without thinking. Her eyes flash his way, and he feels danger like when Murphy had dropped him to the ground, towering over him while the rest of the delinquents huddled closer and cheered.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” this Clarke says, her face closed, and Wells is quick to his best friend’s side, just in case. His Clarke narrows her eyes, sparing him only a look before looking to the other Clarke.

“We just need your help. Talk with Lincoln. Be our advocate so we don’t have to resort to anything else. You know what happened before, that’s why you’re here now.”

The older Clarke keeps still at Clarke’s words. The weight of silence sits heavily down upon them as she considers.

“Thanks to you, I’m still here,” Wells says, “We just want to give the future its best chance. You can help us with that.”

Her head moves, so slightly Wells can’t count it as a nod. A few moments skip by before, slowly, carefully, the older Clarke speaks.

“I can’t be your advocate,” she says, catching the younger Clarke’s eyes when she pauses, “But I can be your translator.”

XxX

Griffin, now titled, refuses to enter camp but tells them how to find Lincoln. The first person to meet him is Bellamy, who tells them how the grounder doesn’t look at all friendly. When Wells gets to see him, he can’t help but agree.

There’s dark paint over Lincoln’s face, shapes sharp and making him stand out like a monster. He’s covered in armor and looks ready to strike if they so much as sneeze.

The three of them, Wells, Bellamy, and Clarke, stand with their translator from the future. She’s between them, hands held together in front of her, and Wells can’t decide even with her face which side she more belongs to.

Bellamy steps forward, quiet like Lincoln and studying him. They said no weapons, but Wells knew Bellamy still had his gun tucked away. Just in case.

“Thank you for coming,” Bellamy says, slow and careful. Wells wishes he could see the look on his face. Griffin speaks the grounder’s tongue; words which the sounds fall over each other as they reach Wells’ ears, but he sees Lincoln nod in reply. He doesn’t say anything back, and Bellamy pauses.

“I thought he could understand us?” Clarke whispers to Wells, leaning in his space. 

“But he can’t give that away. Remember what Griffin said. Right now we’re the enemy, and he can’t talk with the enemy.”

He doesn’t fault Clarke for not catching on right away. He still feels overwhelmed with all the information from the book, and from Griffin. There’s not room to absorb it all. And then she sets up a meeting with the grounder for in two days? It’s too much.

He feels Clarke heave a sigh beside him. Her frustration is palpable, but he hopes she can keep it together as they try to save their future.

What’s more curious to Wells is the way Bellamy changed in the span of a few days. They haven’t talked much outside their meetings, but Wells can still see the way it weighs on him. One day Bellamy was trying to throw the delinquents into a system of chaos with no hope of being reunited with their families from the Ark, and the next he was trying to prevent their people from ending up in a war.

“We know why you attacked us at the base of Mount Weather,” Bellamy says, his voice drawn tight, “It was to stop us from getting too close to the mountain men. Or to stop them from getting too close to us. In a way,” he pauses, and Wells can hear the knot in Bellamy’s stomach like it was his own, “It was to protect us.”

Lincoln speaks. The sentence is short. His eyes flitter to Griffin.

“It was a warning,” she translates. Bellamy looks back to Wells and Clarke. The three of them exchange glances, silence ringing between them.

“So they watch us from the shadows, then attack us when it suits them?” Bellamy rises. He pulls back quickly, but Wells sees him clench his fist. It doesn’t matter that Bellamy _knows_ why, and knowing the future doesn’t help the feelings in the present.

He leaves Clarke’s side to reach Bellamy, hand on his shoulder and guides him back.

“Take a breath,” he lowers his voice for Bellamy to hear. Bellamy does so, giving a quick nod back to Wells.

In turns, they explain to Lincoln who they are. Wells leads the direction when Bellamy gets too hot, and when Clarke gets too eager. They express their desire for peace, and to prevent any future bloodshed from happening.

“He can’t promise anything,” Griffin eventually says, and Bellamy’s heaving out a sigh as he paces outside the group.

“Why are we talking to him if we can’t get anywhere?” Bellamy keeps his voice low, looking between Wells and Clarke as they approach.

“Because he’s the messenger,” Clarke says, “Whatever we say to him he brings back to their leader. Or leaders.”

“It’s not like we can promise anything either,” Wells points out. The pair stare at him in confusion.

“The Ark’s coming down, we know it is,” he says, “Even if we promise not to attack them who knows if our people will hold to it.”

“Let’s worry about that later,” Clarke says, stepping back to Lincoln and Griffin, and together they work out a time and place to meet with his leader to discuss an official truce. They don’t shake hands before departing, and Lincoln remains where he stood until the four of them vanished over the hill.

They travel back to camp, discussing what to say to the rest of the delinquents.

“What was that?” And then, quick to leap in front of them, is Finn. He wears a strained smile and drops his eyes on Clarke, but only after glancing towards Griffin.

For a moment, Wells worries Finn had found the book, but throws the thought away. They couldn’t leave it behind at camp where anyone could find it, so Wells had tucked it into his bag when neither Bellamy nor Clarke were going through it.

“Did you follow us?” Wells asks, surprised when he hears how loud his own voice is. There’s panic swelling in his chest, but Finn stares back and shakes his head.

“I tracked you guys, but only after you disappeared for an hour and didn’t come back,” Finn says, glancing back at Griffin. Wells doesn’t get a chance to see her face when Finn asks who she is.

“Damn it, Finn,” Clarke interrupts. Bellamy grabs Finn and pushes him against the closest tree. He has his gun out and pressed into Finn’s stomach.

“What the hell, Bellamy?” Finn yells. For a few moments chaos shakes the group, and then—

“Bellamy, wait,” it’s Clarke—their Clarke—with her hand at Bellamy’s back, and he tips his head her way, “You know you’re not a murderer.”

Wells, again, can only stare at Bellamy’s back facing him. Finn’s hair has fallen over his face, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Not yet,” Bellamy says. His voice shakes, and it’s chilling. Wells walks to Bellamy’s other side, and once he goes slack and releases Finn, Wells reaches out and gently takes the gun from him. Bellamy doesn’t resist, letting it pass from his hand to Wells’, meeting his brown eyes once it’s tucked away.

There’s another chill Wells feels, and he has to turn away quickly before it snakes up his spine.

Finn’s brushing his hair back, and he settles on Clarke when the silence remains.

“Ready to fill me in?” he asks, no intention of letting things go. Clarke gives off another sigh, and Wells pats Bellamy to get him moving.

XxX

Finn wants to read the book, of course. They argue somewhere on their own, but finally Clarke’s convinces him to drop the subject.

“At least I know why she’s been avoiding me,” Finn says with crossed arms. Without the book, he doesn’t know about the massacre he commits on the grounder village, but he knows about the last valley Griffin’s future fights over, and he knows about Raven coming down from the Ark in a few days’ time.

Wells tries to keep it out from the back of his mind. He cups his hands under the stream, bringing the water up slowly to take a drink.

“I’m glad you two were able to make up though,” Finn says, and he’s genuine but Wells goes still.

“The book gave her the words I couldn’t,” Wells says before taking another drink. It spills from his palms down his chin, and it’s a relief to not have to worry about wasting water.

“Is there some reason you all don’t want me reading it?”

Wells shakes his hands out before standing up. He takes his time looking over himself needlessly.

“According to the book, I’ve been dead for a week,” Wells says casually, but it hits Finn like he had expected, “And there’s a lot that happens in seven years. I know how this might sound, but it’s better that you don’t know everything.”

Finn opens his mouth, but he’s clearly at a loss trying to find what he wanted to say.

“It’s okay, I’m still here.” Wells pauses, then after a beat he says, “The future can be changed.”

Finn brows draw together, as though trying to pull a secret meaning from those words. A breeze picks up over them, and Wells slides his hands into his jacket’s pockets. He wraps his fingers around the object there, a knife given to him by Bellamy, just in case he needed it.

Holding it around the handle, Wells feels just a little bit safer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> consider letting me know your thoughts on this. i think that'd be super dope.


	3. Chapter 3

Raven wakes up with a rag pressed to her temple. Her helmet’s off, and there’s a pretty girl staring at her with a strained smile on her face.

It’s clear to her that she made it to Earth. She had to leave Abby to do it, but she made it.

The girl taking care of her is Clarke, because of course Abby’s kid is the one to find her. Clarke tells her not to talk. She knows why Raven’s here, and Raven thinks that somehow, they were able to contact the Ark on their own and Raven didn’t need to come down. Abby didn’t need to stay behind to die for her.

There’re muffled voices outside the shuttle. The delinquents are there with them.

And so is Finn.

Clarke has a first aid kit, and she’s bandaged Raven’s head. Raven has barely stepped down from the shuttle when she’s swept up in a hug, and Finn is muttering into her neck how glad he is, and what was she thinking.

“You came down here for me,” she whispers back to him. But, unfortunately, it isn’t the sole reason for her one-way trip.

Clarke’s sitting in the shuttle again, and the radio isn’t broken, and Raven feels hope like she never felt before.

It’s minutes before Abby’s voice comes through, and Raven has tears in her eyes thinking of Finn and she finds herself looking for Clarke to see her reaction. It’s been ten days since her death sentence to Earth. Raven expects a mirror reaction to her own but sees instead cloudy eyes on Clarke. She tries a smile, but it’s forced over her teeth.

The culling doesn’t happen. The people on the Ark are running out of time, but now they know what they can do. They can all come back home.

“There’s something we have to talk about,” Clarke interrupts the victory, or rather she speaks up after the feeling of victory settles and the thoughts of preparation follow and the need to bask fades out.

“What’s up?” Raven says, leaning closer. She’s like Abby, and Raven trusts Abby. But there’s a shiftiness in Clarke’s face, and Raven tries to imagine what it meant to be sent down to Earth before knowing it was safe.

It’s then she realizes something’s wrong. Two others come near them, and Finn starts to pull away. He presses a kiss to the side of her head that’s unwounded and mentions talking with her a little later. He’s safe, and they’re together, so after she squeezes his hand and he squeezes back, she watches him walk off.

Wells Jaha and Bellamy Blake. The son of the chancellor, and the man who tried to kill him. They stood side by side, their own look of weariness unhidden from their faces. Wells offers his hand to shake, and Bellamy stares at her with wide eyes and chin pointed her way, as though he means to read her mind through sheer force of will.

“How’s my father?” Wells asks, abruptly and looking worried. Raven blinks, and swallows, glancing Bellamy’s way and wondering what he’s told them.

“He’s alive,” she doesn’t want to say the state he’s in. The coma he might not wake from. It’s not her place, but there’s no one else who knows, and how can something so out of her element be her decision?

Wells’ face splits into a smile, and he nods like he knew that was the answer, and he turns to Bellamy and gives him a look. Bellamy presses his lips together and the tension starts to ease from his shoulders.

Clarke clears her throat and tries to start whatever their conversation is to be about. It’s serious, that much Raven can see.

“Should we talk back at the camp?” She asks, looking around. Not many of the delinquents had come. The few nameless kids she had seen had gone with Finn when he took off.

“It’s better we keep this away from the rest of the group.” Bellamy speaks for the first time, his voice deep and wearing the sound of concern.

Raven’s smile slips. Wells pulls an object from his pack. A book. He hands it over, telling her to check the first page.

Her name is there, written in her hand. Bellamy’s and Clarke’s sit there too. Other names she doesn’t know.

“Please don’t forget about us,” Raven reads out. She’s confused, and the three before her look on with sympathy.

“It’s a book from the future,” Clarke says, almost like an apology, “Seven years from now, only one valley of land remains survivable. But it’s fought over by the people who are left, destroying each other and the last sustainable place on Earth.”

Raven follows the information easily enough, but it still feels like a sudden weight pressing down on all of them. But no, the weight was there already, and now she needs to carry her share.

“How did you get this?” She asks, and she resists flipping through the book. What kind of information did it carry, and what’s she supposed to do with it?

“A time traveler,” Bellamy says, and Clarke clears her throat. There’re more shared looks between the three of them. Clarke tilts her head at Bellamy, eyes wide. Wells shoulder checks him, but rather than pull away he stays leaning while Bellamy draws his eyes from Clarke back to Raven, clearly pushing her to explain.

“It’s uh, it’s me,” Clarke says, barely able to meet Raven’s eyes. For a moment her shoulders drop with nothing short of _exasperation_ , “That sounds so weird, doesn’t it? There’s another me walking in the forest, and her hair’s shorter—” Clarke brings her hands up, motioning where the other Clarke’s hair ends— “And despite us being the same person she’ll barely talk to me.”

She stands a little flustered, but Raven knits her brows together. Something Clarke said doesn’t quite add up, but she can’t tell where the gaps lie. At least Clarke looks to be embarrassed now, probably saying more than she wanted to share.

“So, she’s still here then?” Raven asks, nearly pausing between each word. It’s certainly not what she expected to hear about when she came down, but when it came to Earth, apparently anything’s possible.

They call her Griffin, to avoid confusion. She stays in the woods to keep from interfering, another thing that feels out of place in a way Raven can’t quite grasp. She’s the one who delivered the book to Wells, then ensured a peaceful meeting with the grounders.

“My advice: don’t read it all at once,” Bellamy tells her, just before the walk back to camp. She stares at it in her hands, its spine resting in her palm and waiting for her to dive in. Raven lets the smell of the wind and the weight of real gravity distract her.

For a few minutes, the worry of the future strays from her mind. The sun heats the back of her jacket, and there’s color in the trees and the flowers and the stones. She stops several times; picking up a stone in the dirt and feeling its rough grit against the pad of her thumb, smelling a soft orange flower in a bush next to a pile of fallen leaves, looking up the trunk on a tree to see how tall it stretched. The planet’s beautiful and so much better than home.

“Welcome home,” Clarke says at her side, smiling at her and Raven can only smile back. She twirls the stem of the flower she’s plucked between her fingers, and briefly considers trying to fit it in Clarke’s hair. She holds back, and then the sound of a bird from the trees has her turning her head.

The group stops, and Raven follows suit. Wells holds his hand up and looks to Raven to say it’s okay. Two people drop from the trees, and a third steps out of seemingly nowhere.

There’s no panic. Wells and Clarke and Bellamy stop but the surprised tension Raven feels through her muscles isn’t present in their body language. She looks over the three strangers, and one of them is so clearly the Clarke from the future that Raven can’t even process denying the idea of the book now. Whatever doubts she has, and there are a few, have faded in that instant.

One of the tree-droppers steps forward. Dark skin covered in darker paint over eyes, a mane of hair that fades from brunette to a light chestnut the farther down it goes.

“Welcome, Raven Reyes. My name is Anya,” she says in a rich voice.

“She’s the one in charge of this territory,” Bellamy informs, “It’s thanks to her we have a truce between our people.”

“We were told you would be arriving today,” Anya says, straight to Raven. Her eyes change in a blink from her to Bellamy, “I’m glad to see it was true.”

Raven has to push through the confusion. The future. The book. Her arrival’s important, and they know that. She acclimatizes quickly and offers a smile to the stranger.

“We had no idea that there were people still down here.”

Her fellows all shift beside her, and she realizes of course they would have mentioned that already. Anya looks amused herself, if her slight smile is anything to go by.

“Well, we knew about the people in the sky,” Anya looks to say more but she stops and lets the silence hang.

Clarke steps in and explains. Their people had agreed with the grounders to keep them in the know with each landing from the Ark. In order to live in peace there needed to be a level of transparency.

Which explains why Griffin’s there. Or _maybe_ it does. Family shared appearances all the time, and perhaps they only see their future guest as an older relative. And yet, Raven doesn’t know if she could buy that. Appearances aside, this Clarke from the future doesn’t look like the same person she had just met.

Griffin’s eyes stay on her, and in a blink Raven thinks she sees a smile, but it doesn’t stay. The light in her eyes are faded, and it only bolsters Raven’s desire to sit down and read the book. She needs answers.

So Raven is filled in. While the grounders had decided not to harm the delinquents, the kids still worked on building a wall around their makeshift camp. Just in case the grounders changed their mind.

Lincoln became the messenger between the groups. He stopped communicating through Griffin’s translations and spoke their language. He wore less armor in the camps, and stayed longer than he needed. Raven asked Wells if Lincoln and his people knew about the book and the events of the future.

“A bit of a complicated answer,” Wells says, rubbing the back of his head, “We told Lincoln, but he told us not everyone would use the information from the future with good intentions. He told Anya, but apparently they’re the only ones that know for the moment. She’s sent word to their commander, so there can be a sit down with us to discuss it in better detail.”

While Raven had tried to keep from the issues with the grounders, the book only brought it closer to her attention. It brought them up in every chapter, the people who killed them and they killed in return. A bridge Raven had blown up with a handmade bomb. The grounder child Clarke couldn’t save. The 300 people they killed with the dropship.

“I haven’t let Finn read it,” Clarke says in the chair beside her, “I don’t know him all that well, but I don’t know how he’ll handle some of the things that’s in there.”

Raven knows what she’s referring too. She read that part over and over again. He goes on a rampage at a point when Clarke is missing. It explained enough that what happened there was clear.

“How do you feel about him?” Raven asks, unwilling to look at her. She stares just over the pages of the book, and sees Clarke shifting from the corner of her eyes.

“We got this book a few days after we dropped down, Raven. I hardly know him, and then I had to read what he did… for me,” Clarke’s voice shakes, and Raven thinks about the girl in the room with her. She’s no Abby, too inexperienced in life to really know what she feels. And without the book to tell them of the future, she’d eventually stick a knife Raven gives her into Finn’s body to end his life.

“I can barely look at him.” Clarke is frozen where she sits. Raven gently closes the book and reaches over to place her hand over Clarke’s knee. Finn’s always been her family, and reading his fate is a punch to the gut. But she lived on after him, for at least seven years. At the back of the book each of the co-authors wrote a page to their younger selves. Raven’s sat after Harper’s and before Bellamy’s.

_‘You’re wonderful, and smart, and you have a family that would die for you.’_

Her handwriting. Her words. People who weren’t Finn, who were but strangers become her new family. Four of them were in camp with her right now. Only one—Bellamy—knew about the book.

And Clarke…

It’s a weird feeling, knowing she isn’t considered family in the future. Somewhere down the line they drift away, and their paths wind them in different directions. They only seem to come together in times of disaster. Only out of necessity.

Clarke puts her hand over Raven’s on her knee. Their eyes meet, and Raven wants to say something encouraging maybe. Her tongue’s stuck in her throat though. Finn’s still her family now, and Clarke is well meaning but a stranger.

She excuses herself and leaves the tent, heading for a walk away from everyone. She spots Lincoln at the edge of camp, talking with Octavia and Miller. She passes by Wells at a campfire, joking with Monty. Between tents Bellamy is speaking in a hushed voice with Jasper.

She walks until they disappear. But even then she’s not alone, and Clarke— _Griffin_ appears in front of her with a hand on her hip.

“You okay?” Griffin asks. Her voice is light, but there’s no warmth in the question. Or maybe Raven doesn’t know her well enough to hear it.

“Just going for a walk,” Raven says, thinking she still wants to get away only to reconsider, “Actually, do you mind if I ask you about what’s in the book?”

Griffin nods, somberly, and welcomes Raven to a fallen log. A pair of gloves lay atop it with an old rifle leaning at its side. 

“Where’d you get the gun?” Raven asks first, without thinking.

“Brought it with me,” Griffin answers as she sits beside her, and Raven straightens her back.

“From the future?” Raven asks, and Griffin’s silence is her answer. She picks it up without asking, but Griffin doesn’t stop her. She watches on while Raven places it across her lap, looking at the faded coloring. She lifts the strap attached, reading the names on it.

“These are…?”

“People I’ve lost.”

The space around the two of them feels wide. Trees press close from behind, but the free passing air eases the otherwise confiding feeling. Raven fingers the edge of the strap, seeing what names she knows.

“What did you want to ask me?” Griffin brings her attention back towards her.

“How did you come back?” Raven asks, soft and curious. A slant of a smile forms on Griffin, looking wistful at her.

“You are the first person to ask me that,” Griffin tells her. Raven wonders if it’s true, then wonders why she wonders _that_. She waits though, for Griffin to gather herself and then explain.

A minute goes by, and Griffin isn’t looking in her eyes anymore.

“Well, I couldn’t have done it without you,” she says. She means future Raven. A version of her seven years from now. Raven feels a thrill of pride run through her. She reels it back, stores it away before she lets it get to her head.

“I figured out how to send you back?” She asks, voice swelling with joy.

“In a way, yes,” Griffin says, and Raven feels that strange disconnect of ideas again, “You and Monty.”

Raven wants to prod, to try and figure out why Griffin sounds like she was skipping over some vital detail. It was all very odd how Griffin had come back to change the future. She delivered a book with all the information they needed, but then stayed herself. She wouldn’t interfere directly, but she would offer her skills to help them along.

Raven looks over the makeshift camp. It can’t be where Griffin is actually staying because there’s such little of _anything_ around. A tiny fire with burnt out embers, and her bag lying beside a beat-up sleeping roll. Plus, the rifle in Raven’s lap.

“You pack light,” Raven says. Maybe Griffin had never unlearned the ways of the Ark, or perhaps in her time there was little to hold onto.

“I always feel like I’m on the move,” Griffin says dismissively, but there’s a hitch in her throat, “It’s better this way.”

It’s not true, but it’s too obvious to point out. Raven sighs, fingering the rifle’s strap as she considers what she knows. For any number of reasons, Griffin’s hiding something. Raven could tell in the way she chooses her words. Deliberate, to make sure her answers sounded _just_ close enough to what their questions really asked.

Raven remembers her future self had written to her. She has a family in the future, but Clarke isn’t one of those people. Raven helped figure out how to send someone to the past, and Griffin was the one that made it back.

“You…” Raven starts, and brows knit as she pieces it together, “Why did we send _you_ back?”

Griffin’s face sinks into something else. It’s dark and terrible and Raven can’t believe this is the same girl she was just talking to in her tent. But they weren’t the same person really, the Clarke that she woke up to is cloudy and distant and cares about the wellbeing of the people she came down with.

“Why don’t we go for a walk?” Griffin says, and Raven stands up too quickly, the rifle sliding off her lap.

“Uh, sorry,” Raven says, wondering if she can run back to camp before it’s too late.

“I shouldn’t have brought it back with me,” Griffin says, her voice relaxed as she stares at the gun on the ground, “Grounders hate guns.”

Raven’s feet are glued where she stands. “Then why did you?” She asks. Griffin doesn’t move from her seat, palms pressed down on the log as she looks up.

“It’s a reminder,” Griffin says, “Of the people I want to try and save this time. But also… no matter what happens here, I did lose those people once. I don’t want to forget that.”

Griffin stands up, picking up the rifle and placing the strap over her shoulder. She stands with an energy Raven can’t run from, unsure if she should.

“I get it,” Griffin says, and Raven feels like her mind’s an open book, “You don’t think you can trust me.”

Raven scoffs, shaking her head, “Have you told us everything?”

Griffin’s face scrunches up, “I gave you the book. We put everything we could think was important in it.”

“And you told Wells you weren’t staying, but here you are,” Raven points out, “What are you doing here, Clarke?”

Griffin’s eyes flutter in confusion.

“Forgive me for not being eager to get back to a dying planet.”

“If we’re changing the future then it shouldn’t be dying, right?”

Griffin flinches and offers no rebuttal. It doesn’t feel like Raven got anywhere, but she feels the knot in her gut loosen. She twists away, taking a few steps from Griffin, and thinking about the Clarke of the present. _Is this really the kind of person you become?_

Raven doesn’t know who Griffin is though, but something about her makes Raven worry.

“You don’t have to like me,” Griffin says, and when Raven looks back at her she’s rolling her eyes, “Not that you ever needed my permission.”

With a soft smile, Griffin nods her away. Raven walks off, from both Griffin and the delinquents’ camp. The forest is silent the deeper she goes, and Raven stuffs her hands into her pockets and forces herself to enjoy the planet around her.

It works for a time. No matter what’s going on the Earth is livable, and it has been for a while, and Raven’s one of the lucky ones from the Ark to see it. She survived her shitty childhood, and her wasted away mother, and she made it to the ground in a metal canister thanks to her mind. Whatever the future plans to throw at her, she doesn’t plan on letting it tear her down. No way.

And from the corner of her eye Raven catches a small shadow. She faces it swiftly, and is struck by the sight of a child. They’re not Charlotte, with darker hair and an outfit that reminds Raven of the grounders, but more closely, of Griffin.

“Hi,” Raven feels like she has to break the silence. The kid’s just _staring_ at her.

“Hey,” the kid says back, “I’m Madi.”

Griffin’s kid. A reincarnated commander because of the blood under her skin. The thought’s as weird as the smell of flowers, the taste of meat, or the complete lack of ceiling above her.

“I’m Raven.”

Madi half smiles, “I know.”

Raven smiles back reflexively.

“I’m guessing you were listening to my talk with your mom?” She asks. Madi’s lips turn into a flat line, her face a mask.

“No,” she says, her voice steady, and Raven resists the shiver down her spine at the sudden cold injected in her voice. Madi’s peers back at Raven, scrunching her eyes in thought.

“I just…” Madi’s mouth hangs open as she pauses, “I wanted to see you.”

Raven tries to reign in her surprise. Madi knows _her_ , of course. For a moment she wonders if Griffin sent her, but pushes to ignore the thought.

“Is it weird for you?” Raven asks, “Seeing me, but knowing I’m… not the me that you know?”

Madi ponders for a moment, “No more than anything else that’s happened to me.”

And then Madi smiles again, and Raven wonders how odd it would be if she were to hug her, but she doesn’t ask to.

“There’s actually something I need to talk with you about,” Madi says, and she moves closer, and Raven leans down to eye level.

Madi reaches forward and puts her hand on Raven’s arm, “Not here though, come with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how am i doing?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter numbers keep going up, but there will be an end eventually. that said, next week there will be no update so I can caught up on where I want to be before the posting the next chapter.

The grounders make arrangements reluctantly. Soon, the entire Ark station would be coming down. Griffin knew how it would happen, and which pieces of land needed to be cleared of its people. With the help of Raven’s radios there’s also hope of fewer casualties. Anya helps spread the message to the rest of her people, as well as reaching out to the commander of the clans. The day after the next, the commander would be in their presence, and with one word she could doom the future of the grounders’ alliance with the people of the sky.

Wells turns his focus to the camp. He’s arranging the build of the cooking fire, explaining to Octavia the best way to place the logs to encourage the flames to spread. She watches with interest, glad to learn and glad that her brother isn’t hovering over her shoulder.

“I’m not used to him like this,” she says, balancing a log between her hands. Considering her upbringing, she’s able to deduce quickly that there’s something more going on in the background of the peace with the grounders.

Wells purses his lips and demonstrates sparking the fire. It takes a few minutes before it catches, burning softly in the evening air.

“What was he like before coming down here?”

Octavia smiles inwardly at the question. She isn’t reserved on sharing. Though whether it’s because she’s comfortable with Wells or if he could’ve been anyone taking an interest in her life, he can’t say.

Octavia says, “He used to be calmer. Which I don’t know if that’s saying much. I know he did a lot to keep me safe.”

She tenses up, “I only saw him at home. Maybe he was putting a face on for me the whole time. He could’ve been anyone on the Ark…”

Wells leans back from the fire, the smell of smoke wafting by his nose. He thought similar of his father for years, and perhaps even still.

“Maybe,” he says, “But if so, now you have the chance to know the real him.”

Octavia looks surprised, but then she nods.

“Thank you,” she says, once the fire’s bigger and they can sit back and enjoy the heat.

More delinquents gather around the fire. Connor takes a seat with Miller, who’s biting his thumbnail in far off worry.

“Hm? What for?” Wells asks. He knows what her future’s supposed to be, but already things are changing. Seven years is a long time, and he feels good about what they could do moving forward.

Octavia moves her mouth and the fire crackles, and Wells lets Connor’s voice fade away to focus on the person beside him.

“You’ve been letting me hang around you these last few days. Learn from you. It’s nice,” she says, her eyes unable to stay on him as she spoke, “You feel like a friend.”

Wells exhales a laugh, “We _are_ friends.”

Octavia’s smile grows bright. She looks over her shoulder to the people mulling about the camp. She’s so fascinated with everything around her. A part of him feels a sinking stone in his gut.

Atom, Trina, and Pascal were still dead. Griffin hadn’t tried to save them. Deep down he knows saving everyone, trying to prevent _every_ death probably won’t work, but he still can’t help but think about it. What made them expendable? They must have family on the Ark. Why couldn’t she have tried to save them?

“Did anyone have tattoos on the Ark?” Octavia asks suddenly, and Wells looks to where her eyes lead. Lincoln, the lines of his tattoos peeking out at the collar and sleeves of his shirt.

“No. Couldn’t waste the resources,” he says, “And if anyone tried, I’d imagine they’d get floated for it.”

He wants to take the words back. Wells is aware that his presence is a constant reminder of his father. Bellamy might’ve backed off, Charlotte might not be planning his death, but he knows a lot the delinquents still look at him with scorn, blaming him for the rules his father enforced.

“You okay?” Octavia asks, and Wells knows he’s tense. He releases a breath and offers a smile to her.

Octavia’s perceptive, but perhaps out of fear for scaring him away she doesn’t push it. They both pick at the small twigs at their feet and tap them together, playing pretend for no other reason then they could.

At some point Octavia looks up, and she sees Monty and hesitates before excusing herself, a hand to Wells’ shoulder in quiet comfort. He scrunches his eyes after her, but he knows he can’t find an answer to the question on his mind. The book only tells so much, and he wonders exactly how their relationships will form in this new present.

The fire’s contained in a circle of stone. Wells pats his hands clean of dirt and stands up, earning a nod from Miller and a diverted glance from Connor. He doesn’t say anything and turns to see Finn dragging a hand through his long hair, walking and lost in thought with a frown. They’ve talked on and off, and Wells still wonders if he should let Finn take a look at the book. But in the end, it doesn’t feel like his call. He just hopes whatever put Finn down that tragic road wouldn’t matter now.

Wells walks the other direction, heading towards Raven’s tent. She’s been the most uneasy about everything they’ve learned. He can’t blame her, but even with all the preparations between waiting for the rest of their people to come down, and waiting to meet with the grounder’s commander, it was hard not to get lost in it all.

He’s surprised when he walks into the tent to see Clarke and Raven standing together, his best friend with what could only be described as a dopey smile on her face as she held Raven’s hand in hers. At least until she catches sight of Wells a second later and her face turns to startled, lowering Raven’s hand but unable to pull away.

He catches the fading sound of Raven’s laughter. While Raven, sensing the shift in Clarke’s mood, turns to look over her shoulder to see Wells. 

Their hands pull away slowly, and Raven’s smile lessens; she could read something uncomfortable in the air.

“Wells – hey,” Raven says, crossing her arms and turning to face him. Clarke stands in the back, eyes down before Wells could give her a look.

“I can come back,” Wells starts, but Clarke stands up straighter and shakes her head.

“No, it’s fine, it’s…” She’s taking a few steps, and Raven turns to look at her, smile gone and leaning with worry.

“Clarke…” Raven says softly, and Clarke hesitates before excusing herself. Wells watches as she steps between the two of them and out of the tent, and then he’s alone with Raven.

“I just wanted to check on you,” he says, swallowing down his want to ask if everything’s okay. It’s hard to keep things hidden at the camp as it is, and he doesn’t want to rob anymore privacy from them. 

Raven drops her crossed arms and treads the room. There’s a desk with things she’s tinkered with, but nothing looks finished. Outside of the radios Raven’s already made, it looks like she hit some kind of wall.

He watches Raven refocus herself, shaking away the moment he interrupted.

“I built a bomb,” Raven says, quietly as though not to disturb the air around them. Wells waits a beat, the moment of panic already fading before he could feel it.

“What do you mean?”

“In the book. I built a bomb to stop the grounders from attacking the camp,” Raven says before raising her hands to rub her temples. It’s in the early chapters, the rising tensions between the delinquents and the grounders, Wells remembers.

“Our people were going to be killed. You did what you had to do,” Wells says, stepping further into the tent.

“Yeah,” Raven says, sounding defeated, “Yeah, I’m sure that’s what happened…” She shakes her head and moves back to her makeshift desk, picking up an unfinished mess of metal.

“It’s nothing,” she says, waving him off without moving her hands. “I technically never did it, did I? I just – I don’t know. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Tell me about it.”

Raven stills and tilts her head, her eyes scanning his face.

“Tell me about you,” she says instead. Wells purses his lips as Raven puts her work on the desk, leaning back against it as she motions for him to start.

He can feel his cheeks tense as he opens his mouth, “What do you want to know?”

“Why did you do it? Get arrested?” Raven asks, and she’s staring, and it crosses Wells’ mind that she knows what he did. Whether she was at church when he committed the act or heard about it after, she knew what he did there.

“I knew Clarke was one of the prisoners being sent down. I had to come with her,” he says. “And I needed to make sure whatever I did would stick.”

“That’s why you tried to kill the Eden Tree?” Raven asks. Wells nods, an awkward smile forming.

“I needed it damaged – and I needed people to see me do it. So even if my father wanted to overlook it somehow, he couldn’t,” he continues, and now his arms are crossed, “I considered setting it on fire but—”

“Wait,” Raven looks like she might start laughing. “What the hell, Wells?”

Nerves run through his arms, and Wells shuffles his feet. “I mean, I didn’t…”

“Good thing,” Raven says, “Chancellor’s son or no, people would’ve been calling for your execution.”

It stings a bit, but she isn’t wrong. “I wouldn’t have been able to do it anyway. Start a fire, I mean, if I didn’t have to. I knew I’d do whatever it takes but I couldn’t just burn through our people’s oxygen like that.”

What trace of amusement left of Raven’s face withers. There’s a bitter smile she gives, eyes looking away from him.

“Good thing, considering how we ended up losing those three months of oxygen not too long ago,” she says stiffly.

“You mean Finn?” He asks. Spacewalker, the other kids had called him. He gloated about his illegal spacewalk in the dropship, waving off the damage he had done to the people of the Ark.

“Yeah,” Raven nods, and the moment hangs heavy in the air. Her shoulders rise with tension as she takes a breath, “He’s… he’s been taking care of me all my life,” There’s a pause. “I owe him everything. I was able to _eat_ because of him.”

She doesn’t say it, but she doesn’t have too. Wells doesn’t push the obvious, and he can see the burden in Raven for letting Finn take her blame.

“Sounds like we both came down here for people we love,” Wells says. Out of obligation, out of comfort, they fought to come down here in their own way.

“Sounds like it,” she says, a glimmer of tears in her eyes that she wipes quickly with the heel of her hand. She shakes her hands and grits her teeth then in a brief tangible frustration.

“Aaah!” Raven curses, fingers trailing over her desk. “I wish I could build a bomb.”

“Excuse—”

Raven holds a hand up, “Not like that. I’m glad I don’t need to but… I need to be working on something. We’re waiting on this alliance, and I’m worried anything I try to work on will make them declare war on us, or something.”

Wells walks over to the desk, looking over her pieces. “I get where you’re coming from. Our technology is scary to their people. Especially because of the mountain.”

His hands hover, and he feels Raven watch him as he grabs a metal cylinder wrapped with open wires. Pieces of copper twisted out of the ends, and he rotates it in front of him.

“Could you do something small, like a water tester?” He asks, already wondering if that’s a silly request. Raven rolls her eyes and shrugs like she had the idea days ago.

“I could makeshift something ugly in five minutes, but it wouldn’t do much but test for salt,” she reaches for the cylinder and removes it from Wells’ hand, “This is a makeshift clock by the way; figured it’d be good to have our days numbered.”

Wells’ lips twitch, and he can’t stop the smile, but he does hold back the laugh swelling in his stomach. After a beat Raven draws her brows in and squeezes her eyes tight.

“God _damn_.”

It lightens the tension Wells feels.

“If you need something to do though,” he says, “Bellamy and I were going to work on our Trig in a bit. Want to join us?”

“Trigonometry?” Raven asks with a raised twist in her brow. This time Wells can’t stop the laugh that slips out of him, shaking his head.

“No, Trigedasleng. It’s a bit hard to say, so we’ve been calling it Trig,” he explains. Raven rolls her eyes before looking around her tent. There, in the center of the room, she seems suddenly very far away to Wells. The knowledge of the future had changed the lot of them to be sure, and Wells wonders if others saw the same thing when they looked at him.

Raven lets out a sigh that Wells sees but can’t hear, and she turns to him.

“Let’s go speak some triangles.”

XxX

“Have you read anyone’s letter?” Bellamy askes her as she gazes through the book in her lap. Raven slowly turns the page, eyes never straying to him.

“Nope. Just mine.”

She can hear Bellamy clear his throat, hesitating. She skims the pages she’s read before about the Dark Year; with the little information the book gives. It changed Clarke’s mom and everyone who was in the bunker. Six years of forced cannibalization, and she wonders what she would’ve done, if she was with them during that time. Then she tries to think of Octavia, a girl in the camp who hangs off Monty’s shoulder and draws closer to Lincoln when he comes to their home, holding a gun and telling her to eat the flesh of another person. Maybe someone she knew. Raven thinks she would resist, accept the bullet through her body in rebellion.

She wonders if she would’ve been broken by the Dark Year too.

“You should read mine.”

Raven pulls from the page, her thoughts cutting off as she hears Bellamy again.

“What?”

She looks to him, and he’s leaning on his cot, on his stomach, looking her way with steel in his eyes. He holds himself like a rock motionless in space, but she hears the thudding of his heart as if it were her own.

She goes to the letters at the end, to his page, written after her own. It’s about having more faith in himself, to keep a level head, to look out for Octavia but to let her make her own choices, and then, she sees the part about her.

_Stick by Raven. She’s the brightest of all of us, and loyal as all hell._

Raven can feel the smile start at the corner of her lips. _You bring out the good in each other._

Bellamy gives an awkward smile when she looks back to him.

“Sounds like we really rely on one another,” Raven says. Bellamy’s mouth draws up quick, and he’s still so rigid but she can feel the warmth of his joy staring back at her.

“Eventually,” he says with what she can only hear as a playful tone.

He was her family, in another life. Someone who cared for her, loved her even. Looking at Bellamy now, she tries to conjure that feeling of devotion, but nothing comes. Finn is still in her heart, and she can’t let go of that.

_I don’t have to now_. She thinks, knowing that Clarke won’t go there, but also knowing that she can’t ignore that, if not for Griffin’s intervention, she would have arrived to Earth with a broken heart.

Not to mention how she might’ve burned the bridge herself.

Raven closes her eyes and exhales slow and long, easing the nerves at her sides crawling up her back.

But Raven already had moved on, at least a version of her had. She worked through losing Finn, and Sinclair. Hell, she _died_ and figured out how to bring herself back. If some future version of her was capable of that sort of determination, then she could be too.

“Eventually,” she sighs. She goes back to reading, and she thinks about reading the other letters. What would Murphy’s say? Or Harper’s?

“Have you read any of the others?” Raven askes.

“Of course,” Bellamy says, and then pauses, “I figured since they’re trying to give us all the information they can, there’s nothing wrong understanding what they want to pass down to their past selves.”

Raven grips her bottom lip with her teeth, shaking her head but wondering if she could anyway.

“They’re all like a family,” Bellamy continues, softer, and Raven finally looks up and back at him, “Most of them are, anyway.”

“Despite everything that’s supposed to happen in the future, it sounds like something good came out of it,” Raven says, and there’s an unfamiliar nostalgia forming in her chest. An ache for the family that now may never be.

“We can still have that,” Bellamy tells her, “It may not be like what the future has, but we can make our own, and hopefully, they’ll be more of us.”

Like his sister. Or Clarke. Or anyone that’s supposed to die in the next seven years. Raven wants to believe him. She tries to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if the way the chapters are cut ever seem odd, please keep in mind I wrote this in the format of a oneshot. I am managing decently at figuring out how much to put out in a block, but that's why the POV won't necessarily be divided evenly. that said, hope yall are enjoying the journey!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope yall enjoy the chapter ! (also last update before the last of the show comes out. that's... that's something)

The grounders’ leader calls to the delinquents to send their own to speak with. The message is passed through Anya to Lincoln, who tells Raven.

“Someone who will speak for the needs of your people,” Lincoln tells her, and Raven nods her head, wondering why _she’s_ the one he had come to. She goes to Wells, and Clarke, and Bellamy, and then the four of them are standing in the dropship together.

There’re shared looks between them, and Clarke is shaking and swallows hard, readying herself.

“No,” Bellamy says, as clear as the sound of birds in the forest. Raven feels sick at the thought of Clarke speaking for them, and it all comes down to the book and _Griffin._ It stirs something worrying and dark in Raven’s gut, and she finds herself staring at Clarke, Abby’s kid, and maybe a friend, and wonders how much of Griffin she already is, somewhere deep down.

Raven looks to Bellamy, and for the first time she wants to follow his lead. He’s looking back at her, his arms crossed as he shakes his head.

“I can’t do it either,” he says, and Raven _really_ wishes she had something to work on.

“So where does that leave us?” She asks. It can’t be _her_ ; she doesn’t know how to be a leader. Or if she would know how to look at the big picture and make the right call.

“No, it can’t be _one_ of us,” Wells says, and he looks around at them in confusion, “We’re the only ones that know about the book. We’ve been coming up with ideas on how to survive and what to do together.”

“But we need a representative,” Clarke says, and she speaks as sure as a connection of wires. Wells meets Clarke’s eyes and his mouth parts, corners turning tight as he works through the next part.

“Fine,” he says, “I’ll speak for us. I’ll talk with their commander, and I’ll make sure it’s understood how we do things.”

“Is it how we do things?” Bellamy asks, “It hasn’t even been a month since we’ve come down here.”

“It can’t be the same as on the Ark,” Raven chimes in, “If we can establish reasonable order down here… why shouldn’t the Ark follow our lead?”

She knows the answer every question falls back to. The book tells them what happens when the Ark crashes down, but things are already different. They won’t be at war with the grounders, and the mountain men won’t get the chance to take their people. Wells wouldn’t be dead, Murphy wouldn’t be banished, Finn would never be stabbed by Lincoln and, in turn, they would never capture and torture him—their people aren’t divided now.

“What _about_ the Ark?” Clarke asks, “We have radio contact. They’ll want to know how we’re moving forward.”

“They’re the ones that sent us down here,” Bellamy says, “You think they’re going to let us take charge?”

“Do they have a choice?” Raven asks. Bellamy’s face pulls a look that she can only read as surprise. Clarke looks a little stunned and maybe impressed too. Of course, some of it might be the residual resentment towards Abby for letting Wells take the blame for the death of her father. Raven still isn’t sure how she feels about that one.

Wells turns up a smile.

“You should come with me,” he says. And Raven wants to laugh at the audacity of it, but the other two don’t look the way she feels. Bellamy nods in agreement, and Clarke seems resigned in handing the reins over.

“Are you serious?” Raven asks.

“I doubt the commander’s going to be alone when you go there,” Clarke points out, “Having someone else as a witness, or as backup, would be good.”

“Can’t imagine them saying no to one more person,” Bellamy adds, “At least it’ll look better than all four of us going.”

“Plus, Lincoln will be there, as a mediator.”

Raven waits an added beat as she looks around the room, hoping someone will tell her without asking.

“What about Griffin?” She asks, and can’t help dropping her eyes to Clarke, who shuffles with unearned guilt.

“I’m sure she’ll be there,” Bellamy says offhandedly. Raven lets it drop just as quickly. She’s always wound up about Griffin, but she knows that not personally seeing her all day doesn’t mean anything. She’s probably off lurking in the forest, maybe with her kid, Madi.

 _Yeah, but on who’s side?_ Raven imagines herself asking but instead nods diligently and lets it go.

And soon she’s standing in a large makeshift tent that had been put together in only a few days, standing a step behind Wells as she looks to the woman with the same black on her eyes that Lincoln used to wear. That Anya still does.

She has a mess of brown hair tied back, the black on her eyes streaking down like blood trails. There’s a dot of metal on her forehead, and she sits in a chair with Anya off to her left side and another person named Indra to her right.

The commander watches and welcomes them. Lincoln’s there, away from the commander’s chair and away from them. Griffin isn’t anywhere. Raven lets Wells do the talking, and he tells them of how their people were sent to earth to die, how they pulled together as a group and tackled surviving the planet.

The book is the unspoken weight in the air. Raven feels it tucked inside her coat and passes it to Wells when asked. Anya starts then: about the contents of the book, about the trust between her people in the forest and the delinquents from the sky. She vouched for their claims of knowledge from the future, and with it, its prophecy of destruction.

“Things are already different,” Wells says, “That I’m standing here talking to you is proof of that.”

He sounds full of hope. And he explains his role to them, of being a representative but not the _one_ leader of his people. He motions to Raven.

The commander’s eyes are locked on her now.

Her heart hammers. She can do this.

And then she speaks.

XxX

The grounders call her _Heda_ , and the book calls her Lexa, and Raven doesn’t know what to make of her. Her cold demeanor instantly has her thinking of Griffin but there’s something softer underneath. Of course, if not for the book Raven isn’t sure she would ever bother trying to find it.

The future had been discussed in the tent, the obstacles they would need to overcome or be doomed to repeat, and for now the truce held. Once the Ark came down, there’d be further talk on how to face the mountain men.

Lexa and Anya spoke to one another in Trigedasleng. There’s no Griffin to translate this time, and Raven can’t catch their meanings. She can definitely hear the evolved English but the cipher’s structure threw her off.

“Griffin usually finds us most days,” Wells tells them, apparently understanding. Anya looks at him with a satisfied smirk, and Lexa with open wonder. Raven has to pull back her own surprise. There’re more words spoken between the two grounders, and Wells glances back to Raven to show he couldn’t follow anymore.

“Feels like they’re talking about us,” Raven suggests, sliding her hands into her pockets. She wishes Finn were at her side so she could take his hand and feel his warm comfort.

“I wouldn’t blame them,” Wells says, “It’s probably not often extraterrestrials come down to warn them their home will be destroyed.”

Raven rolls her eyes, nearly missing the approaching Lexa standing before them.

“I would like to look around your…” Lexa pauses as her eyes go to the direction of their home. “Camp. Will you be my guide?”

Raven nods, the tension doubling in her shoulders as she offers a look to Wells. He steps away.

“I’ll go tell Bellamy,” he says, “And Clarke.”

There’s something hard in the way Lexa refuses to react to her name, but Raven can see the hidden twitch in her cheek as she keeps her composure.

Anya excuses herself without a word and then Raven is leading Lexa back to the camp. She knows Wells went ahead to give Bellamy and Clarke a heads up, so the rest of their people wouldn’t freak out when they arrived, but she wished he could’ve walked back with her.

It seems unsafe, Raven realizes next, for Lexa to be walking with her alone. Her eyes go to the treetops, wondering how many of the grounders are hidden among them. They agreed to peace, but she knows enough about the violence of the grounders to be wary.

“You know,” Raven starts, surprising herself, “Everyone down here is a kid. We’re not trained like your people.”

Lexa’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “But you know how to fight.”

“We learn,” Raven says, “We’re not useless. But living in the Ark is just a box with no way out. Limited resources, and no way to get more.”

Raven swallows, looking ahead as they get to the camp’s gate. Connor and Myles nod to her and avoid looking at Lexa as they let them in.

With the gate opened, Raven watches Lexa look between the guards, her eyes falling to the guns they’re both carrying.

_“Grounders hate guns.”_

Raven can hear Griffin’s voice in the back of her head, picturing the campsite and the rifle in Griffin’s hands. Raven waits and Lexa steps through the threshold in one breath, hand loose over her sword’s handle.

“Any crime you break gets you killed. Doesn’t matter how small, how justified, how accidental. But if you’re under the age of 18, you get locked up instead, until you’re of age and then you get to be judged on whether or not you’re killed anyway.”

Raven could see the delinquents eyeing them as they walk past. Lexa’s hand is at her side, walking at Raven’s right to keep her weapon in the center. Not so easy to grab, and the delinquents would read this as her relaxing amongst them.

“Sounds difficult,” Lexa says, unwavering. Raven feels cold and looks onward, pointing out the obvious. Where their fires are set up, which tents people sleep in. It’s a risk to mention any of this, but it’s a necessary one.

Across the camp Raven caught sight of Murphy, his head tilted as he watches with a frown and sharp eyes. She feels an awkward surge of compassion for him, wishing she could go over and try to recreate the kind of bond they would’ve had in the future. It’s pointless she knows, and Raven focuses on the people who do know their future.

Finn isn’t one of them, but she spots him next. Things have been awkward between them, but they’ve managed to come to an understanding. The Ark was their whole life, and they each needed to find their own way on Earth. It hurts, but she thinks it’s for the best for them both. He waves to her, a simple greeting, and she returns the gesture. Lexa sees, but says nothing about it.

“When Anya sent the message for me to arrive, I knew it was a serious matter,” Lexa says, “That Lincoln wasn’t ostracized said as much.”

Lincoln, who’s been spending more time in their camp then his people’s. Raven figured it was part of his duty, being the messenger between the groups, but perhaps what she read about the grounders’ culture isn’t as true as she thought.

“Do you know Lincoln well?” Raven asks.

“Not at all. He’s of Indra’s village. Under Anya’s command. Vouched for by the both of them.”

Raven catches Wells over with Bellamy, close enough to see but not enough to hear. Wells meets her eyes and steps forward, only for Bellamy’s hand to catch his. She doesn’t know why seeing that feels like a stone in her chest, and she thinks of Clarke and Finn and Lexa, and wonders in this timeline who will be the person to put her first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooo any thoughts of the dynamics I've been writing? i've had a lot of fun working through raven and wells' thought process.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that last ep aired. that's the long and short of it really. 
> 
> once more next week will be no update while I work on writing the next part of the story. total chapters bumped up again but we're definitely more than halfway through. enjoy!

The Ark comes down in pieces, just as the book predicted and Griffin had explained. Wells helps mark the places throughout the forest to warn those passing through, along with several other delinquents. The grounders send messengers to the further villages and territories that debris would likely hit. Despite it all though, they know there’s still room for error.

It sends Wells into a fit of nervous energy, wondering if his father will be okay. There’s nothing in the book about how Jaha made it to the ground after staying behind, and despite the Ark being in better shape they can’t control everything. There’s still a rebellion that causes damage to the Ark; the Exodus ship is launched but doesn’t break away properly before it snaps in half, one part falling down to the earth while the rest drifts along the planet’s orbit.

The Exodus ship has no survivors. Wells knew it before they had gone to check it out. Seeing it was another story. He held it together for the sake of his stomach as well as the grounders who had led the scouting mission.

The real problem happened back at the delinquent’s camp when word spread of the hydrazine-filled crash site. Grounders and delinquents alike wondering if the other would use the fuel to their advantage. Tension was already a daily weight on them all, and it had increased tenfold.

The camps are on edge, watching the Ark descend. It’s fast and breaking apart and on fire. The sky booms as each piece breaks through the atmosphere and crashes into the ground. Wells and his council—Raven, Bellamy, and Clarke—meet with Lexa and hers—Anya and Indra—and decide on groups to search and rescue each crash site.

Clarke tries to hide her worry for her mom, but Wells knows the fear she wears all too well. He finds himself shaking at the thought of his father alone in space, of not being able to get down from the Ring, of not—

Bellamy already has his pack together for the trip. He plans on heading to the section Abby was stationed. And he’s taking Murphy and Harper with him. Raven leans forward like she’ll volunteer to go too, but is instead silent with her hands drawn behind her back.

“Keep an eye out on Octavia while I’m gone,” Bellamy tells Wells off on the side. He nods, eyes somewhere else, and Bellamy nudges him.

“I will. Of course,” Wells says. All things considered; Bellamy had been eased away from watching over his sister at all times. Mostly he checks on her from a distance, and Octavia seems both confused and eager to explore her freedom.

Bellamy reaches down and takes Wells’ hand, bringing it up between them. Wells squeezes his back, watching how their folded fingers look around each other. Then Bellamy clasps his other hand on top, eyes burning bright with fervor.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, with something else carrying in his voice. It’s amazing how much can change on the ground in one month. Wells wants to pull him close but holds where they are.

“Raven and I will hold the camp down,” Wells says, and Bellamy seems taken aback, and Wells gives his hand another squeeze.

“When you get back, we’ll talk, okay?” Wells promises, “Don’t die out there.”

They part warmly, and Wells can feel himself falter. His heart is beating faster than it already was, and now isn’t the time but he can’t get the image of Bellamy smiling at the promise from his head.

“Hey, I need to talk with you,” Raven says, hand brushing over his shoulder as she appears at his side.

Wells follows her to the dropship. He gets a sense of dread hanging over them as Raven meets his eyes. She looks faraway, as she sometimes does amidst the events happening around them.

“Madi told me something a while ago,” Raven starts, and she’s twisting her fingers together. Wells is confused, rightly so, and half expects to see Griffin appear from the shadows of the room.

“Griffin, she…” Raven swallows, letting the moment hang in the air a bit longer. “Madi and her, they weren’t the only ones who came back.”

He’s shocked, and Raven grants him the time to process. There’s a lot of questions, and he tries not to linger on the betrayal of his friend from the future.

“Who?” Wells asks.

Raven takes a moment to look to the dropship’s door. In a beat Wells can see just how long she’s been carrying this information around. His heart aches, wondering how many days and nights she’s been shouldering this burden alone. He remembers every time he saw her in her own world, no matter how many people were around. Suddenly, she felt nearer than she ever had before.

“Bellamy, Harper, me,” Raven says, almost in relief, “Everyone in the book.”

The names written at the beginning. The people who asked not to be forgotten. And Griffin? Wells doesn’t know how to feel. She has always felt different from Clarke, like a distant memory. And yet he can’t help but trust her. They grew up together. They were best friends, once upon a time. But for the first time, Wells felt truly angry at Griffin.

“I’m sorry,” Raven says, and Wells’ head is spinning when her voice brings him back.

“I don’t know what to do with this information. I don’t know why Madi told me, or why Griffin never said anything. I wanted to ask Clarke, but…” Her voice is tight, and she grits her teeth, “I can’t. It’s not fair to her, and I don’t know what to do.”

It’s hard to watch her shake before him, carrying her own anger. He opens his arms with a question on his face, and Raven nods. He wraps around her, and he can’t remember the last time he was hugged so hard.

“We’ll figure it out,” Wells says, “One step at a time.”

Raven nods into him, and she’s still gripping so hard, Wells can only return the favor. He can feel her heartbeat, and he clutches the back of her jacket, hoping to say: _‘I’m here, I’m here’._ He rests his head against hers, feeling how her nose presses into his neck, her hands clasping around his back like she might never let go.

They spend minutes like that, and when Raven finally pushes away Wells tries not to focus on how cold he feels.

“Where are they?” He asks.

“According to Madi, they’re supposed to be in Mount Weather, finding a way inside to help free the grounders imprisoned there.”

Wells closes his eyes and takes a breath. They can handle this, like everything else thrown their way.

“Good. They know what they’re doing, hopefully,” Wells says, “Griffin must’ve had her reasons to keep it secret, but everything she’s done has helped.”

Raven doesn’t look convinced.

“But why lie? And why would Madi go over her head to tell me?”

Wells shrugs, but it’s a complicated feeling that settles on him. Griffin is a friend seven years removed. He sees so much of his Clarke within her. He has to believe that part of her still remains.

“Madi’s a kid,” he says. It feels like a weak argument. Raven crosses her arms, standing as uncertain as he feels.

“Madi’s also the next commander,” Raven says, the grounders’ words sounding awkward on her tongue, “The flame gives her access to knowledge from all the commanders before her. I would bet that she knows what she’s doing, same as Griffin.”

Wells rubs the back of his head. “She’s both. And there’s not much we can do about it at the moment. We can only focus on our people.”

Raven stills, and nods. He reaches over and wraps one arm around her.

“Thank you for telling me. Carrying this around must not’ve been easy.”

Raven relaxes into him and scoffs.

“Damn right. I think I need a vacation.”

Her laughter sparks his heart into skipping a beat. He rubs a hand up her arm and feels surprised at how easy it is to show her affection.

"You and me both.”

XxX

Thirty-seven dead. Wells’ first thought is where he’ll have to dig the graves. They’re on the ground now, and it’s only right their people get a place in it.

He keeps a hand on the radio clipped to him as he walks the camp. He worries for his father still, having heard no word on him since the search began.

There’s a large tent in camp now, which is really four tents stitched together. Wells opens the flap to see Clarke and the grounder’s healer going over a list of what they had and what they might need.

Clarke spots him. Nodding back to the healer they split up their belongings and Wells waits patiently as they bid their farewell.

“How’re you doing with everything?” Wells asks once they’re alone. Clarke doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Good. Just getting everything ready for when our people are brought here. Nyko and Lincoln are helping with – well, I’m sure there’s still supplies intact on the Ark but just in case, um, when they get here…”

Wells crosses to her, one step at a time. She turns her head as though to meet his gaze but stops halfway.

“You don’t have to be okay,” he says. He can see her trying to pull herself together, to wall up her emotions before she can feel them.

“I’m fine, Wells,” Clarke says, and now she’s finally looking at him. He remembers the first few days on the ground, the way she sidestepped him before. Bellamy calling to light how invisible he was to her.

“That’s okay too,” Wells says, wearing a soft smile, “If you are. Because Clarke, I don’t think I am.”

She’s surprised somehow, and Wells moves his mouth soundlessly. He stops and takes a breath, glad for the way Clarke waits for him to find his words in his own time.

“I’m not supposed to be here,” he starts, and it’s chilling to say out loud. He’s a ghost of a life not meant to make it this far.

“And it worries me,” Wells says, and he blinks quickly, “I want it to mean something, Clarke. I want my life to matter.”

She’s so quick to challenge him, “Of course you matter, Wells.”

 _Of course_ , as though those words have always been easy for her to say. He hears her but the worry still sits with him. Clarke gets in front of him and puts her hands on the sides of his shoulders.

“You’re my best friend. There’s this,” she catches on Griffin’s name, “ _version_ of me out there that had to live without you. But Wells, I can’t do that, okay? I need you here.”

She hugs him fully, and it’s different from the crashing hug of Griffin. Clarke holds onto him with tension still in her arms. She lets her head rest into his chest, and he can feel the slow beating of his heart against her ear. He’s not a long-lost memory to her.

He squeezes her back, and when they part, she’s gone back to her facing at anywhere-but-him. There’s a stir in his gut then, because there’s a shadow over Clarke’s face and he nearly misses it.

“Clarke,” he reaches a hand to her, fingers curling in before he could reach her. But she stops like he had, and the shadow pulls away for another moment.

“I love you,” Wells says, “You’re my best friend too, and you don’t need to do any of this on your own.”

Clarke’s mouth twitches and she hesitates, sliding a hand over one of the pockets of her pants. She looks contemplative, and Wells can _see_ the tension starting to leave her.

“Wells, there’s something I need to—”

Someone’s walking in behind Wells. He turns and steps back, already forgetting what Clarke was starting to say at the sight of Lexa before him.

She shifts her gaze between them, the flap to the tent falling shut behind her, and gives them both respectful nods.

“Nyko told me I would find you here,” Lexa says with her eyes settling on Clarke, who gives her the most awkward smile Wells has ever seen her give.

“Yeah, so,” Wells brings his voice up as much as he could without outright yelling, “Clarke, Raven needs to you, uh, go see her about the,” his mind shifts for an excuse, “wiring with the dropship.”

There’s stretch of silence. Wells scratches the side of his nose and Clarke nods, bidding the two of them farewell before stepping around Lexa as she left.

Lexa fits him with a look Wells doesn’t know how to read. He’s sure _she_ can read through him though.

“Wirings,” Lexa notes, “Sounds complicated.”

Wells hums in agreement, “It’s literally rocket science,” he says with laugh, but Lexa’s face doesn’t change. He feels guilty then, because he can only imagine what Lexa’s thinking, or Clarke for that matter. Lexa was one of the many casualties over the next seven years – but the manner in which she died painted a clear enough story about the intimacy between her and Clarke.

“I’m sorry,” he finds himself saying, “You said you were looking for Clarke, I didn’t mean…”

He stops himself, because he _did_ mean to. Clarke needed a way out, and how was he not going to give her one?

“Is it something I could help you with?” Wells offers instead. Lexa’s reluctant, but she looks around the room before nodding to him.

“We have something in common, it seems,” she starts, and Wells can only assume she means Clarke, though he hasn’t seen much of Lexa and her talking… at all.

“Oh? And what’s that?” He asks.

“Death. We both meet our ends soon enough,” Lexa speaks of it so naturally, “The knowledge from the future changes much. I know who the commander after me will be.”

Wells tenses. Madi came back with Griffin. There was no way Lexa knows, but if she does, does it matter? Would Madi be seen as a threat or an ally?

Lexa studies him before continuing, “I wished to talk with Clarke because I wished to speak with Griffin, yet neither of them every seem to be available when I do.”

It’s a sour note, one Wells isn’t quite sure how to handle feeling.

“Griffin always seems to follow her own schedule,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. Then, for just a second, he sees Lexa shift with uncomfortable tenseness. Her jaw clenches. She swallows mutely.

“Is it threatening,” Wells starts, and Lexa locks onto him, “To know who your successor will be?”

Her brows knit together before she shakes her head. “No. We train those who may be the next in line, so they are prepared.”

The next part he remembers.

“Madi’s not part of that group,” he says. The book and all its knowledge, for better and for worse, sits in the air between them. Wells knows of Aden and the others, and the horrible way they died.

“Once we’ve settled with your people, I will head to the valley to find her.”

Lexa sounds assured, and she looks to a wall in what Wells has to figure to be a method to keep her feelings under wraps. To show him that she is controlled and certain in what she decides.

“And I guess you wanted to talk with Griffin about her?” Wells prods.

“Yes. It’s one of a few things I wished to discuss,” Lexa says, and her façade is breaking through already. She’s definitely intimidating, but the longer he looks the more Wells sees a kid like the rest of them. 

“Also,” Lexa continues, and he hears the way her voice changes. “I wanted to talk with her. To… know what kind of person she is.”

There’s vulnerability, and curiosity. She wants to know Clarke, like the book doesn’t say but shows enough of to suspect. They had… something together. For a quiet moment in the history of the future, they had each other. 

Wells thinks on Clarke’s smile with Raven. He doesn’t know what that means in the grand scheme of things. He wishes he knew what would help everyone involved.

“She might not become the same person,” he says, softly. He sees a glimpse of Griffin’s path in Lexa now. For better and worse, trying to shoulder the burden of an entire people.

Lexa’s keeps to the part. She raises her shoulders and nods to Wells. When she speaks—

“She shouldn’t have to.”

—the radio at his hips crackles to life.

“Wells?” A voice comes through the speaker.

Wells snaps to it, glancing Lexa’s way. His heart pounds. Bellamy had told him to keep this channel open. There’s only one reason he’d be calling in.

“Bellamy?” Wells starts, almost afraid to ask, “What… what is it?”

“He’s okay,” Bellamy answers, his voice assuring, “He’s got a broken leg, but Wells, your dad is alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm enjoying sharing the story, esp after having worked on and off for it the last couple years. if you have any thoughts or feelings about what you've read, please feel free to share with me !


End file.
